


The Fluffer

by Saladscream



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Manip, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 16:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8064085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saladscream/pseuds/Saladscream
Summary: You find unexpected things on the set of a porn flick...[Fluffer: an off-stage person hired to keep a male porn star in a state of erection.]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Silliness alert!!
> 
> Written over eight years ago in response to a challenge at Pepesplace.
> 
> It was betaed eight years ago by the lovely Pepe, and I brushed it up a little for today but I'm just going to be brave and post without further ado. So, any remaining mistake is entirely mine! Sorry.
> 
> Thumbs up to Jody who asked me to resurrect this piece of silly fluff. (I hope this makes up for the unintended delay with the Ice King series!) ;)
> 
>  
> 
> **The artwork is mine: *please* no reposting or re-using without my consent.**

  
  


 

Few men could multitask like Jack O'Neill.

Few men could leaf through a stack of porn actors wannabes' applications, direct the shooting of the latest ‘cream your pants’ flick, and scowl at the goddawful egg and ham sandwich that Walter, his assistant, was trying to make him believe was actually edible. Yes, he could do all this in one sitting. As hard as it was to believe at first glance, O'Neill was more than just a sexy face and a hot, award-winning dick. From his comfortable, plush chair, he could select the cast for his next production, bawl out the present actors for their insipid performance, and tell Walter where he could stick his Sandwich of Doom.

He could even spot the one thing that was totally out of place around the swimming pool of the luxurious villa they had rented for the day, where Randy was currently drilling Kyle's ass like there was no tomorrow, while Jeff assiduously shook his dick over Kyle's tongue.

"Who's the geek?" he asked Walter absently.

"The...?"

"The geek," Jack repeated, briefly looking up from his pile of pictures to throw a self-explaining glance at Mr Geek-of-the-Month propping up one corner of the patio and hugging himself – possibly one second from hyperventilating. "What the hell were you thinking, bringing a dweeb in here? The guy looks like he's about to have a stroke or somethin'. Probably never seen so many hard dicks to the square meter, poor guy. Do us all a favor and kick him out, will ya?"

"Uh... Jack, he's part of the crew."

Jack abruptly looked up at Walter like he'd grown a second head.

"Say what?"

"He's part of the crew. He's the fluffer," Walter said, almost apologetic.

Jack frowned and closed his eyes to concentrate for a second, having a hard time wrapping his mind around the concept. Surely, this couldn't be a joke – Walter didn't have such an unhinged sense of humor. He took another hard look at the thoughtful, serious-looking geek patiently checking his watch.

"Walter," Jack said very calmly. "If this guy's the fluffer, I'm the Mona Lisa." And Jack had checked this morning in the mirror: he wasn’t.

His assistant had the decency to look embarrassed, but persisted, "You said you wanted someone new to keep the guys on their toes. His name's Daniel Jackson and we’ve never had any complaints on the other sets. Didn't you read the memo I left on your desk?"

Jack scowled. "Of course I read your memo." Well, he'd read one of them, anyway. Something about a massive order for strawberry-flavored lube. "You mean to tell me this guy is a fluffer? As in 'let me keep this warm for you while we wait for the next scene to be shot'?"

Walter nodded mutely.

Jack took a closer look at the man; rather tallish, on the well-built side of slender. The threaded blue jeans and tank top were kinda cool, in a 'I'm not really a bad boy' kinda way. Still, the glasses, the brooding air and the self-hug screamed 'geek in distress' to Jack.

And the guy made a living in the porn industry? Well this, Jack had to see.

He handed the stack of pictures to his assistant and got up, waving at the cameraman, gaffer and actors to keep at it. If Jack was good at one thing, it was making men feel inadequate – and horny. However, Daniel Jackson didn't seem impressed to see Jack 'Big Bad Wolf' O'Neill prowling towards him – on closer looks, he seemed bored out of his skull more than anything else. Oh, but this was about to change.

The man watched Jack approach with casual but guarded interest. The arms unwound themselves slightly to adopt a more relaxed attitude, the self-hug becoming more nonchalant. 'Very subtle,' Jack thought. He walked right up to Jackson, taking note of the enticing amount of bunching, bare skin revealed by the top and the perfect shade of pale blue behind the glasses. Really good-looking for a geek.

They made proper eye-contact and nodded to each other.

"Everything all right?" Jack asked as he parked himself next to the man, facing the rest of the sunny patio and Randy's enthusiastically bouncing ass.

"Yes." The deep, caressing voice surprised Jack, who turned to look at the intriguing man. Strong, harmonious features, beautiful lips, gentle, intense gaze. "You?"

Him? What? 

"What?"

"Are you all right?" The words were uttered softly as the blue eyes roamed over him and a corner of that sinful mouth quirked up. What the hell? 

"Oh yeah, fine." Bastard. The guy had almost had him confused there for a second. "Was more worried about you, really." And fuck, now he had him babbling. Jack cleared his throat. "Walter told me you were new; I just wanted to make sure you were getting into the pace of things, finding your marks, that kinda stuff."

"That's very nice of you, Mr O'Neill." Jack could've sworn his name had never sounded quite so erotic before. "Thank you. I'm doing just fine." Jackson's hands stroked the fabric of his tank top absently.

Right. Jack dug his hands into his pockets to keep them from twitching. Fuck, what kind of geek was this? And who was the boss here, anyway?

"So, you been in this business for long?"

"Two months."

Ah! He knew it. A virgin. Or as good as. But Jack was now very curious to see him in action.

"Randy, I'm getting seasick, mate!" he suddenly called, interrupting the fevered banging session. "Try something else, will ya? No, tell ya what. Have a break. Five minutes."

The cameraman shouldered off his camera, the sound guy dropped the boom, the gaffer put down his reflecting screen, Randy pulled out of Kyle's ass with a sticky plop, and Jeff let go of his dick to go light a cigarette. Walter picked up the script and diligently drew a cross in the margin where they were leaving off.

"Two months, eh?" Jack drawled flippantly. "Pardon me, but you don't really look the part, know what I mean? What's a guy like you doing in a job like this?"

"Earning a little pocket money. And what's a guy like you doing in a shirt like this?" Jackson shot back sweetly, all velvet eyes and guileless smile.

Jack looked down at his favorite shirt and scowled at the little sonuvabitch. "I believe Randy needs a hand, _Daniel_ ," he sniped.

Jackson smirked and pushed off the wall, hooking one hand in the back pocket of his jeans as he strolled leisurely towards the actors.

Huh. Since when did geeks have such fine asses?

Jack watched with interest as Daniel went to the refreshments table and poured himself a glass of water, then carried it to the reclining chair where Randy was wiping the drying lube off his half-hard, oversized dick. Jackson offered him the glass and just stood there, watching the stud clean himself up with a wet wipe; Jack was positively dying to know how this so-called fluffer was going to play it out.

When Randy was finished shining up his pecker and drinking his water, he lay back comfortably on the chair and closed his eyes. Daniel crouched, both hands holding on to the edge of the little foam mattress for balance, and began talking to him. Jack frowned - what the hell were they doing? He looked at his watch; only two minutes left. So help him God, if this geek made them lose precious time and daylight, he was going to personally kick his shapely ass into the middle of next week.

Except Daniel suddenly stood up, pushed his glasses up his nose with a finger and walked towards Jeff – leaving Randy lying on his chair, rock-hard and panting.

Jack blinked. And blinked again. What the fuck?! Jackson hadn't even laid a finger on the guy!

Jack whipped his head around to see Daniel approaching Jeff who was grilling his fourth cigarette by now. All easy manners, the fluffer leaned forward and whispered something in his ear, making the sex worker look up and smile coyly. Coyly? Jack's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. Daniel leaned again and kept the intimate pose for half a minute, murmuring mysterious things to the guy – one hand still hanging loosely over the edge of his back pocket while the other gently took the cigarette from Jeff's unresisting fingers. Jack watched in dismay as Daniel walked on to Kyle, leaving Jeff flushed and oozing pre-come.

Well, fuck Jack with a shovel!

And Jackson didn't even stop by Kyle. He merely stubbed the cigarette in the ashtray beside the man and winked at him before strolling back towards Jack while Kyle grabbed the bottom of his shaft and tugged at his balls to stave off the inevitable.

Daniel walked past Jack, pushing his glasses up his nose with his erect middle finger. "They're ready," he purred, voice deep and sultry.

So was Jack, by the way. Very ready. 

"You didn't even touch them," he all but squeaked.

"I never need to," Jackson replied, batting not-so-innocent eyelashes.

 

***The End***


End file.
